


Every rose has its thorn

by Mayjune



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Depressed Sam, Domestic Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Female Lucifer, Graphic description of Dean torture, Lucifer is not what Sam was expecting, Male Lucifer, No Sex, Other, References to Lord of the Rings, Sams in The Cage, Scared Sam, Tortured Sam, really strong language, starts off light but does go dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-04-27 04:10:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 16,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5033191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayjune/pseuds/Mayjune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the things that Sam Winchester anticipated as he fell into the Cage, it certainly wasn’t this.</p><p>Before Sam fully awoke he could hear the sounds of birds singing, the gentle trilling of starlings calling to each other.  He breathed deeply and smelled the unmistakeably sweet scent of clean fresh air and ...wait, was that coffee?</p><p>****</p><p>A semi-claustrophobic story that almost entirely centers around Sam and Lucifer during his time in the Cage. It devolves from a light-hearted opening scene, to torturous mayhem.  Will finish with a devastating battle.  (COMPLETE) (NOW IMPROVED AND UPDATED 2017!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sam wakes up

Before Sam fully awoke he could hear the sounds of birds singing, the gentle trilling of starlings calling to each other. He breathed deeply and smelled the unmistakably sweet scent of clean fresh air and ... _wait, was that coffee?_

He opened his eyes and found he was lying in a soft, clean, double bed, snuggled under a floral patchwork comforter. The bed was near an open window and a light breeze gently swayed lace curtains back and forth.

Sunshine filled the light, airy bedroom. He blinked as he sat up, staring around at a room he was sure he had never been in before. The white antique-effect dressing table had various make-up items, powders and hair clips scattered over its surface, and the wardrobe opposite the bed had several pink and patterned scarves haphazardly thrown over the top of the doors.

 _This was definitely a woman's bedroom_ , Sam thought, _but whose?_ _And what was he doing here?_ Question after question rattled Sam's brain.

He climbed out of the comfortable bed and walked to the window, beyond relieved to see he was wearing clothing, even if it was just a plain white t-shirt and boxers.  Outside, a clear blue sky framed miles and miles of field land, as far as the eye could see, but there were no roads, houses or any other visible landmarks anywhere on the vast horizon.

 _Where am I?_ he asked, even though knew the answer.  His first view of Hell was not what he had been expecting.  Dean had never mentioned anything like this.

He turned back to face the room and as he did so he caught a glimpse of himself in the dressing table mirror. The image surprised him. He looked...well, the only word to describe it was _healthy_. His hair shone clean, his eyes no longer had the dark smudges under them that he had been getting used to seeing, and his body appeared fit and lean. After everything he had been through over the past few months... _years_ really, he expected to look older, more tired, and he barely recognized the hale and hearty reflection that looked back at him.

A voice from somewhere downstairs pulled him out of his stare. It was a woman's voice, playful and warm.

"Come on Sammy-Sleepyhead, rise and shine - there's good coffee going to waste here..."

In that moment, the room around him lost its golden glow, becoming greyer and colder. Ice crawled down Sam's spine, freezing him in his tracks. There was something in the voice he _recognized_ : he wasn't sure exactly what it was – maybe it was the way she inflected the word _'Sammy'_ , but he knew straight away who was calling to him. Although, he had never heard this particular voice in a woman's tone before.

"Come _on_ Sammy...I’m getting impatient..."

 _Lucifer_.


	2. Sam's confusion grows

Chapter 2: Sam's confusion grows

Sam took a deep breath, several deep breaths. He walked towards the bedroom door and put his hand on the white porcelain doorknob. His heart pounded: he was terrified at the thought of what he was going find on the other side of the door. But he pulled it open anyway.

He found himself at the top of a wooden staircase. A narrow cream carpet ran down the centre of the stairs, soft against his bare feet. He walked down slowly, staring at the framed pictures hung on either side of the walls: images made all the more bizarre by their inoffensiveness, considering the situation he was in and who he was going down the stairs to meet. The first piece of 'art' was in a heart-shaped silver frame - pressed rose petals were neatly arranged into a swirly L shape. In another frame, a photo of a little girl ran laughing through a poppy field...and at the bottom of the steps was... _was that a painting of a tabby cat wearing an Easter bonnet?_ That's the moment when Sam knew for sure he was in Hell.

The staircase opened out into a small farmhouse type kitchen, where a woman was pouring coffee into two bone china cups.

Of all the things you could imagine, how would you expect the Devil to look in female form? Sexy? Alluring? Tempting? A stunning model wearing red lip gloss, a Prada suit and seven-inch bondage heels?

Well, this female Lucifer was NOT what Sam was expecting and it threw him completely.

She was in her early forties, and a little overweight. Her blonde hair was cut well but had a hint of grey roots, and her modest blue dress could best be described as _'homely'_. But while she was certainly no model, she was appealing in a comforting, womanly sort of way. _Wifely I suppose_ , thought Sam. A second thought followed: _what the actual fuck_.

She beamed as he entered the kitchen, eyes crinkling up at the corners. "Sam! Good to see you up an'attem!"  The warm smile on her face only heightened his bewilderment, and he felt sweat trickle down his back.

She looked him up and down, squinting. "Although the attire is a _little_ informal dontcha think? Why didn't you get dressed?"

Sam was lost for words. "I... _what_?"

"Jeez Sammy, did you not look in the wardrobe?" Her eyes twinkled. "You do know what wardrobes are for don't you? They store clothes in them..."

Sam looked at Lucifer unable to hide his bafflement. "Look, I'm a little confused...I'm..."

"Sam, Sam, Sam." Lucifer held up a dainty hand. "Relax and take some coffee with me". She turned to the faded pine counter top and picked up one of the coffee cups. It was pale lilac and had white flowers stencilled on it. "Here, take it. I freshly ground the beans myself you know."

Every instinct in Sam's body screamed at him not to drink it. "No…um, that's ok, really, I'm not thirsty", he bluffed. "Look, if you could just tell me what's going on here..? And why are you are...you know..." He swallowed, indicated a finger at her figure "why you are...” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

Lucifer looked disappointed. "Sam, I'm an arch-bloody- _angel_. I can be whatever the fuck I want to be. I'm a thousand things all at once, and NONE of them are your business. Stop asking stupid questions and drink your coffee. Then we will have a nice little chat, and I'll tell you everything you want to know." This time the twinkle in her eyes was replaced with a dark gleam. "Drink up Sam, don't make me ask you again".

Sam didn't know what to do: he was so utterly confused that he couldn’t think straight. There was no way he wanted to drink something the Devil had brewed up, but he wanted - no - _needed_ answers, plus he really didn't want to piss Lucifer off within the first five minutes of eternity inside the Cage.

Trying – and failing - to not show his reluctance, he gingerly took the cup from Lucifer's hands. Her fingernails were painted a pale pink and some of the polish was slightly chipped.

Feeling like this entire situation must surely be a dream, Sam slowly brought it to his lips - the aroma smelled great. He took a small sip of the coffee, then another. It was actually pretty good.

" _Ha! Poisoned you!_ " Lucifer suddenly screamed with delight as Sam jumped in shock, the cup slipping from his hands. Lucifer quickly reached forward and steadied him, "...wait, don't drop my cup - it's too pretty to die."

 


	3. Yeh, she's definitely Lucifer

Chapter 3: Yeah, she's definitely Lucifer

"You actually fell for that?! Jeez Sammy!" His face went red with humiliation and she smiled wickedly. "Awww, aren't you adorable? I was only kidding about it being poison. It really is only coffee..."

Sam, dying of shame on the inside, shook as he carefully put the coffee cup down onto the countertop then held onto the edge with both hands to steady himself.

 _Get it together Sam! You've dealt with all kinds of messed-up situations before and here you are practically pissing your pants over a stupid prank_. Dean would be so embarrassed at how pathetically he had fallen at the first hurdle.

"Ok I'm _done_." Sam said, angry at his embarrassment. "What's going on? Why are you dressed like one of the Duggars and why are we standing in Little Bo Peep's candy cottage?"

"This is my weekend home." She paused. "Well, not my _actual_ weekend home". Her eyes flashed a deep, angry red and her voice deepened. " _That's_ been denied to me now that I'm trapped in the Cage. But, it's someway close. Do you like it?"

Lucifer did a little twirl around the kitchen, the same way a six-year-old dances in a tu-tu. "Do you want the tour? Come on, let me give you the tour."

She grabbed Sam's hand, and he had no choice but to follow her. The touch of her skin against his gave him goose bumps that felt more like goose eggs. He felt utterly displaced: none of this could possibly be real.

As she led him out of the kitchen he had to duck so as not to hit his head on the low threshold.   She walked him past a long pine shelf layered with lacy paper doilies, upon which rested a variety of tiny ceramic puppies dressed in clown outfits. He shuddered and pulled his hands out of her grip.

" _Wait!_ I just...I don't get it. How can this be your home? Isn't it a bit..." he searched for the right word..." _saccharine_? Even Strawberry Shortcake would get diabetes here."

She looked at him very seriously. "I'm a romantic at heart Sam."  He heard the words but they were too ridiculous. Scorn showed on his face.

"Oh don't give me that look Sammy boy. I've spent thousands of years up to my elbows in blood. Punishing the wicked, murdering the innocent, stoking the flames of war, it all gets a bit... _meh_. So I come here to relax, unwind, do a bit of gardening."

"Gardening?" _Could this get any more bizarre?_ His head swam. All of this was so at odds with what he had expected that he refused to accept this was reality.

"Green fingers." Lucifer held them up and waggled them. Sam noticed the nail polish had changed from pink to green. "I've a fantastic herb garden, and the roses grow beautifully here. Organic soil, you can't beat it. Come on..."

She led the way into a small, but cosy, sitting room. Every wall was papered with a repeating cherub motif, pale pink against cream. The furniture was just as cutesy as the kitchen and more ceramic animals were crammed onto every available surface. There was a puffy looking cream couch with pink and cream cushions on it, and an antique wood and glass coffee table with well thumbed 'OK' and 'Hello' magazines scattered across it.

He decided to play along.  "For real...you read celebrity magazines?" he asked.

"Come on Sam, it makes sense when you think about it."

"Uh, I guess", he muttered. _Why should that be any less peculiar than anything else that was going on? Everything here is surreal._

"Well you've seen the bedroom, the kitchen and now the sitting room so I guess that's the tour pretty much done! It's not much, I know, but it's going to be our home sweet home for the rest of eternity and beyond." Lucifer pointed to the oversize couch. "Take a seat, roomie, and get settled in...here, have a cushion."

And that was the moment that the reality of his situation utterly struck home. The surreal suddenly became very real. Like a slap in the face real. Like being stabbed in the guts real.

 _No fucking way. This was where he was to ride out eternity? Stuck in a tiny cottage playing house with the Devil?_ He began to panic. _He would go insane within a day!_

"Look, I can't..I can't do this." He choked on his words, bile rising faster than he could swallow it down. "This can't be it, not…forever!" He whirled around, desperately looking for something, _anything_ that could help him. "There's _got_ to be a way out of here..."

Without warning, Lucifer's mood swung again, and she blasted towards him in a horrifying rage. _"Don't you think I would get the fuck out if I could you stupid asshole?_ " Searing heat and noxious gasses filled the room. " _Instead I'm stuck here with the fucking moron who locked us both in here and threw away the key_."

 


	4. A proposal

For a time, there was nothing but searing heat and foul fumes: filling not just every corner of the room, but every fibre of his being.  Sam could barely breathe. Dizzy, he fell to the couch retching while Lucifer continued to rage. Was it minutes? Hours? Sam lost track. Tears brought on by the acidic fumes streamed down his face.

 _Nightmare, this a nightmare...how can this just go on and on and on?_ He became more and more confused.  Lucifer appeared in front of his blurry vison. She was glowing white-gold. Radiant. _Was he hallucinating?_

"Purple is _not_ your color Sam".  She blew him a kiss, and suddenly he could breathe again, deep and clear. He greedily sucked in as much air as he could, until he thought he might vomit. His face felt wet. He wiped at it, ran his hands through his hair, damp with tears and sweat.

Lucifer sat down next to him on the overstuffed couch, picked up a magazine and thumbed through it like nothing at all had just happened.

He was silent for a while, too shocked to speak. Too bewildered to process what just happened.  The mental fog took a long time to clear, but as it did so one awful thought slowly crept up on him. Something he had failed to notice before.  "...Where's Michael?" His voice, raw, caught in his throat

" _Michael_?" Lucifer carried on flipping through the pages. "I assume he's gone to his 'happy place', like I went to mine. I doubt we'll see him in here..."

" _Happy place_ …" Sam muttered quietly, with a baffled shake of his head. " _Happy place_ …" He was two heart-beats away from laughing so hysterically, he was frightened he would never be able to stop. He could still feel tears drying on his skin.

Lucifer peered at him, with a look on her face that he couldn't read, put the magazine down on the table. "I'm sorry about the coffee prank Sammy, I feel like such a bitch." She stood up and headed towards the kitchen. "Let me make it up to you with a decent bottle of wine. I don't know about you, but I could do with a drink…"

Yeah, Sam could definitely do with a drink. And something a bit stronger than wine. Heroin mixed with vodka mixed with anti-freeze wouldn't be enough. He kept quiet, focused on getting his hands to stop shaking, and waited until Lucifer returned.

"Be a dear, would you?" she said, proffering him the open bottle of white wine. The label was unknown to Sam, not that he knew that much about wine anyway.

He took the bottle from her, maybe a bit too quickly, and poured them two very large glasses. Almost in unison, they both drank deeply. There was no amount of alcohol that could even begin to make Sam relax, but he took a second glass as soon as the first was done.

"So. Sam." Lucifer settled back onto the couch, propped a cushion on her lap and rested the wine glass on top of it. Found a loose strand of blonde hair and began twirling it around a finger. "Now that we are sitting nicely... _calmly_ , it's time we discussed our future together."

"Our future?" the two glasses of wine, and four seconds of calm evaporated instantly. "Our future _together…_ "

Lucifer sighed. "Sam, if you are going parrot everything I say back to me, it's going to get tedious in the extreme. Yes, _our_ future. We are in this together 'for better or worse, for richer or poorer'. Talking of which…"

Sam leaped up from the couch, with a speed he didn't know he possessed. " _What...what are you saying…_?"

"Oh sit down Sam, you'll spill your wine…"

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT THE FUCKING WINE!" Sam's hysteria flared back up, and he hurled his wine glass against the far wall with a loud smash. "When you first came to me you spent months trying to persuade me to…to let you wear me like a cheap suit and now…now you're saying you what? You want to...to _marry me_?". Sam felt vomit at the back of his throat.

Lucifer sipped at her glass, and smiled like the cat that got the cream. "I don't need to _marry_ you Sam, I'm quite happy living in sin. I am the devil after all."

 


	5. Lucy Homemaker

The words were out of his mouth before he had time to think. He didn't _need_ to think.

"I refuse." Sam stood up straight, crossed his arms over his chest.  "Not happening. Not now, not _ever_."  He stared at Lucifer defiantly, knowing that he was in deep trouble but prepared to accept the consequences. Nothing was going to make him agree to...to _whatever_ this was that the devil was proposing.

"Really..." Lucifer drawled. She stood up slowly, her eyes never leaving his. _Green_ , he noticed, _with flecks of deep amber_. He felt her stare into his soul.

"Sam, I'm offering you _peace_. The kind of peace you’ve _never_ had. I'm offering companionship, good coffee and home baking. Retirement with all the benefits and without any of the golf. You can finally have a quiet life in which to ride out the rest of eternity."

 _Peace?_ _There's_ _no such thing,_ he thought sadly. _Not for me, anyway._ "I ruined your grandiose plans of global domination, trapped you down here forever, and you're graciously offering me a quiet life?" Sam asked cynically. "And all I have to do in return for your _generosity_ is...?"

"Nothing!" She tried to pull an innocent face, but it didn't last long. "Well, not _much_ , anyway."

An itching in the back of his brain, like a spider burrowing inside, told him where this might be leading. And it would be so bad.

She took a step closer to him, and he could smell the wine on her breath as she spoke. "Of course, there would be a few, basic ground rules: you are a guest in my home after all. But nothing you would consider too... _improper_."

Sam took a step back, repulsed. "And by _improper_ , you mean..."

"Yes Sam," she sighed dramatically. "I mean no hanky-panky. No swinging from the chandeliers. Not even first base, let alone a home run. Wine me, dine me, then stop right the hell there."

 _Liar_! He thought bitterly. _Lucifer would do anything if it meant hurting me._ He wasn't getting taken for a fool again _._ "I don't believe a word that comes out of your mouth..."

Lucifer laughed out loud. "Wow Sammy! Someone thinks very highly of himself. Arrogant much? Do you think every female wants nothing more than to hop into your pants?"

Sam fumed. "You _know_ that's not what I meant. Cut the crap Lucifer. You _just_ said you wanted us to live in sin together…"

She looked at him, studied him. He was wearing nothing but underwear and false bravado.

She wrinkled her nose up at his bare legs and waved a finger. In addition to his t-shirt and boxers, he was now wearing jeans, socks and boots. Not that being clothed made him any more comfortable. She could see directly into his _soul_.

"You'll want to listen to me now Sammy, and listen closely. You. Are. Not. My. Type." He could feel a change in the air around him, a thickening of the pressure in the room. "You're...you are… _human_." She snarled her lips around the word and stood up straighter. Her voice deepened, and the blue sky outside turned black and stormy.

"I'm the fucking Devil, Sam Winchester. So you can believe me when I say I've witnessed, instigated and enjoyed _every_ kind of perversion known to man, demon and beast." Rain lashed heavily against the window and a sharp tang of ozone filled the room.

"… _But I would rather crawl back to Heaven on my hands and knees across the broken skulls of my dead children then EVER debase myself with YOU_."

Lightening began to flash, inside the room as well as out.  "Tell me, would you fuck a cockroach? Would you...?"

Sam held up both hands in surrender. "No... I get it...I do." He was desperate to calm her down before all the air got sucked out of the room again. Dean would probably take this moment to wisecrack that the lady doth protested a bit too much, but the deeply etched look of disgust on Lucifer's face had given Sam the faintest bit of hope she might be telling the truth.

"Ok…ok? Please, tell me, what _are_ you saying you want here? If you're saying you don't want... _that,_ what is it you _do_ want?"

" _Romance,_ Sammy, I want _romance_." And just like that, the storm abated. The rain stopped and the sky seemed to turn even bluer than it was before. Birds started singing again, and the tang of ozone in the air changed to the sweet smell of wisteria.  Everything lurched from terror to the ridiculous. "I want you to bring me breakfast in bed at the weekend. Bring me flowers. Pour me wine and rub my tired feet when I get in from the garden."

"… _rub your_ …?" Sam croaked. What was Lucifer talking about?  What kind of game was this?

"Make me chocolate cakes in the shape of a heart, and do that thing where people cut tomatoes and radishes in the shape of roses. Run me baths and put lit candles all around the room."

Lucifer was on a roll, and Sam couldn't breathe with the unexpected horror of it all. "You can leave me chocolates on my pillow when I'm not expecting it, and we can do Christmas and birthdays and every other holiday celebration there is, and give each other handmade presents." She reached out, and clasped one of her hands in his.

Sam saw his future laid out before him. As sharp, and as clear, as glass. His punishment was to suffer for all eternity at the hysterical whims of a sadistic lunatic, skilled in psychological warfare, and whose mood swings jumped up and down faster than a one-legged man in a running race. A small part of his brain tried to crawl off into a hole and die. He let it go with a fond farewell.

A wicked smile played at the corner of her lips. "And although I don't want any _saucy_ business, I _am_ going to want the odd cuddle now and again. I reckon a girl could get very comfy in those big strong arms of yours, all snuggled up on the couch watching old movies and drinking hot chocolate."

"You want us to..." He couldn’t even say the words out loud: acid threatened to rise up from his stomach again.

She pouted. "Sam, I've told you before – stop repeating everything I say. Would you like me to turn you into an actual parrot and feed you nuts and seeds and keep you locked up in a pretty gold-plated cage?"

"I'm already locked up in a cage!" He snapped.

"A cage that you jumped into of your own free will!" She snapped back. She put her empty wine glass down on the table.

"Oh Sam, together, up there, we could have had the world. We would have defeated Michael and the whole of creation would have been ours for the taking. Entire continents would have been our garden, blood red roses fertilized by the remains of pulped human flesh. But instead..." She looked around, shrugging at the small cottage.

"Not gonna lie Sam, I'm a teensy bit hurt that you obviously don't think I'm good enough to settle down with." She paused thoughtfully, eyes narrowing.

"But, I'm nothing if not fair. I realize that you spending eternity down here as my roomie is a big commitment on your part, so I'll show you what your alternative accommodation looks like. Look around, take your time, and have a good ole think…" That sly smile was back.

"No…wait!" Sam started, but it was too late. Lucifer had already snapped her fingers.

As the cottage around them faded he heard her say "Let's see what this cage looks like _without_ the gold plating..."

 


	6. It's a small world after all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its a bit nasty. I started this out as a sort of almost buddy story but it's not turned out that way!

The stench of blood filled Sam's nostrils, coating the back of his throat, making him gag.

And the screaming, _oh god the screaming…_ High pitched, incessant, and like nothing he had ever heard before, it resonated through every cell in his body.  He instinctively put both hands over his ears, trying desperately to block the sound but it didn't do a damn thing to help.  Doubled over, retching and feeling as if his head was about to explode, Sam was totally incapacitated and helpless.

Lucifer's voice cut through his pain like a hot knife through butter. "Are we having fun yet Sammy?"  Sam couldn't even open his eyes to face his tormentor.

"Want me to dial it down a notch? Hmm? All you have to do is say please…"

Sam didn't need to be told twice. " _Please_ …"

The screaming faded to something like a tolerable level, and most of the coppery taste of blood faded from his mouth and nose.  Sam was able to stand up straight and open his eyes. Looked around him at the most clichéd scene of Hell imaginable.  Dimly lit room, mouldy and damp. Bloody hooks and chains hanging from the ceiling and walls. An operating table in front of him, soaked in blood, gore and covered in what looked like ground meat.

Behind the table, Lucifer stood grinning. It was Nick - the version of Lucifer he recognized, male and familiar.  The one from his nightmares.  "This is more like it huh Sam? Like Disneyland but without all that queuing."

Sam looked again at the lumps of meat on the table. _That's…that's a person_ …

To his absolute horror he saw the person was still alive… _somehow_ , and was the source of the terrible, terrible screaming. The face was mostly intact, buried under blood and gobbets of flesh. He could see one green eye, staring outwards.

Sam took a step closer, recognized the face, and promptly threw up.

"Betcha foot rubs don't seem so bad _now_ , eh?" Lucifer was smug. "This here is an _exact_ replica of Dean's time in hell. And you get to witness it, up close and personal for ever and ever and _ever_. In 4D, surround sound, high definition...all the works."

" _Oh, please, no_ …" Sam whispered.

"In fact, not just witness it…you get to _participate_. This is the upgraded interactive version. The Torture of Dean 2.0. Here, take a look at yourself and you'll see what I mean…"

Lucifer produced a mirror out of nowhere, and held it up to Sam, who recoiled in horror at his reflection. "… _Alastair_?"  Sam appeared to be the white-eyed demon responsible for Dean's torture during his time in hell, the one who forced him to break Lilith's first seal.

"I'm not… "Sam stuttered, sickened. " you can't make me…"

"No?" Lucifer raised an eyebrow.

Against his will, Sam's body took a step forward. And then another. He fought against it, fought with everything he had, but Lucifer had locked onto his body and Sam was now just the passenger along for the ride.

He looked down at the body strapped to the table. Dean was now whole again, untouched and minty-fresh, ready to repeat his nightmare.  Although Sam knew this was an illusion, of sorts, it _was_ Dean's face alright, determined and defiant, facing off against Alastair with all the courage he could muster.  But Sam wasn't Alastair: he knew his brother better than anyone, and could read the fear hidden in his eyes. 

Alastair/Sam looked down at Dean and spoke: "Are you finally ready to trade places with another soul? Ready to end your torture and inflict it upon another?"

Sam knew that Dean had resisted for as long as he could, for decades, before finally giving in, unable to take it anymore.  Dean answered quickly, bravado running through him like fire. "I'll tell you again, same as I did the last 64 fucking times you asked me. No… _never_."

A knife appeared in Sam's hand, and he felt his heart just about break. ' _Please Lucifer_ , he shouted inside his head. ' _I know you can hear me. Stop this…please…!'_

No answer.

The serrated knife plunged into Dean's chest, right below his left ribcage.  All the way up to the hilt.  Sam felt the vibrations of the knife as he tore and ripped at his brother's tendons and organs. Hacked against bone.

He pulled the knife out, twisting it as he did so.  And plunged it straight back in.

Dean screamed and screamed, and inside his head, so did Sam.

 


	7. The deconstruction of Sam Winchester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter name says it all really

Sam was soaked: not just in blood but sweat too. Dismantling a fully-grown man organ by organ, limb by limb, over and over again, took a lot of physical effort.

When Lucifer finally gave him back control of his body, Sam dropped to his knees shivering. He threw the knife to the other side of the room and rubbed the palm of his hand against his jeans, trying to remove the imprint of the warm, sticky metal.

Closing his eyes didn't stop him seeing the carnage. Wrapping his arms around himself didn't make him warm. Crying didn't let it all out.

Sam had been through a lot in his life, and seen a lot of terrible things. But he wasn't sure he had ever been this traumatized. He could rationally tell himself that it wasn't _actually_ Dean that he had cut up, that the real Dean was somewhere else, safe and happy. But the sensation of the knife tearing through flesh felt so real, so authentic – and he knew Dean had been through this torture during his time in hell.

Lucifer tried to speak to him, but Sam was too emotionally drained, too mentally and physically exhausted to respond.

It was only when Dean's battered face turned towards him and spoke that Sam broke down and sobbed hysterically.

"My brother is going to find you." Blood bubbled out the side of Dean's mouth. "He's going to find you, and kill you. He will make you pay for this…"

Lucifer snapped his fingers, and the pulped meat on the table that looked like Dean vanished.

"Aww _boo-hoo_ Sam." Lucifer pretended to wipe his fists against his face, mocking him. "Come on, enough of this pity party, your blubbing is getting a little dull."

Sam looked away from Lucifer, not seeing him, not seeing anything except for Dean's green eyes pleading, begging, _screaming_ for the never-ending pain to stop.  He didn't notice the room fading around him. 

Hours, days, _weeks?_ later, Sam slowly became aware of the sound of birds singing. He felt groggy, like he had overslept.

He blearily opened his eyes, and recognized the gentle waft of the lace curtains above the open window. The air smelled sweet, the breeze was cool and pleasant, but all Sam could taste was hot blood.

He didn't get out of bed, didn't move. He knew where he was and couldn't face it. Anxiety had lived in his belly for so long he knew it intimately, like an old friend. He could feel it maxing out at the thought of going down those stairs, and he knew he _would_ have to go down them eventually. Lucifer wouldn't just let him lie here in bed drowning in his own misery. Lucifer would want him where he could _watch_ him drowning in misery.  He was just a puppet on a string, being electrocuted over and over again to make it dance.

Anxiety and black depression threatened to overwhelm him, defeat him.  He _couldn't_ let that happen. He was stronger than that, surely? But how could he fight against this kind of despair? He had nothing to live for, no hope, no joy, not even the eventual release of death to look forward to.

He closed his eyes, wishing that they never had to open again. Rubbed the palms of his hands against them till he saw stars. He thought of Castiel for some reason. Remembered obliterating him with a snap of the fingers. Remembered killing Bobby.  Time passed, and all Sam could think about was blood and death.

He began to hear voices. His dad's, often. Sometimes Jess. Mostly Dean though. Christ, Dean was bossy, even as a hallucination. _'Come on little brother, get your act together... Come on Sam, move your lazy ass out of bed... Come on Sam_ , a _t least put some damn clothes on...'_

 _I can do that_ , he thought to himself. _Even if it's just that._ Sam forced himself to push the comforter aside, and swung his legs out of bed. He stood up, wobbly as a new-born foal, and stumbled over to the wardrobe. As he passed the mirror on the dressing table he saw that this time he looked as ill as he felt. His eyes...they just didn't look like his anymore.

Sam could faintly smell perfume on the scarves draped over the doors. He opened the wardrobe and found jeans, a shirt, socks and his boots.

It seemed to take forever to get dressed and he was sweating by the time the boots had been pulled on. Exhausted, he lay back down on the bed, gathering himself for the next step.

Lucifer would want a decision from him. _As if it even was a decision_ , Sam thought bitterly. Lucifer could dress it up all he liked by saying that Sam could _choose_ where he wanted to spend his time in the cage, but he knew there was no actual choice to be made. How could Sam possibly say he would prefer go back to that abattoir? No one in their right mind would.

He lay on the bed for a long time, gazing out of the window with a thousand-yard stare. 

The smell of perfume gradually grew stronger, and he looked round to see Lucifer standing by the door. He hadn't even heard her open it. She was back in female form, wearing a plain cream shift dress, blonde hair tied back in a ponytail.

He turned back to the blue sky, not acknowledging her at all.  She walked over to him and sat on the edge of the bed. "Sam. I realize I may have pushed you a little too far. You're a lot more fragile than I thought." She sighed and went to brush a lock of hair away from his face. "I can't believe I damaged you so soon into our engagement: I do get so carried away."

He jerked his head away, not wanting her touch on his skin. She grinned. "Well, at least I haven't broken you completely." She stood up. "Come on, come downstairs with me and have some coffee and something to eat. I'm making scrambled eggs…"

Nausea rose in Sam's throat.

" _Come on_ , Sam, you need to eat. Look, I promise I will be on best behaviour today. No games, tricks or any blood-soaked fun. Cross my heart…" She made a crossing sign on her chest with a finger.

He couldn't do it. Couldn't do anything except continue to stare blankly out the window.

"Fine, have it your way. Sulky child, come down when you are ready." She huffed, and left the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

 


	8. A gift offered, a gift received

Sam's brain was having the same argument with itself, over and over again.

One side, the hunter side, kept repeating in Dean's voice: ' _play the game Sam, you've GOT to play the game – get up, go downstairs and work out your next move_.'

The other part of him, fractured and raw, could barely even manage to keep his eyes open _. 'Whatever you do you're screwed. Easier just to stay in bed and wait for your sanity to dissolve away like soluble aspirin.'_

Round and round the conflict went. Until in the end it boiled down to only one thing. He had to do whatever it took to never, _ever_ set foot inside that torture room again.

As Sam lay struggling with his decision, he kept expecting darkness to fall but it never happened. The sun never set; it seemed daylight was perpetual here. Time in the Cage was a made-up construct and not one he could rely on.

Nevertheless, it felt like a very, _very_ long time before he could finally psych himself up enough to leave the bedroom. Down the carpeted stairs he went, into the warm, bright kitchen. Lucifer wasn't in there. He walked into the sitting room, she wasn't in there either.

 _Only once place left to look._ He went back into the kitchen and, beneath the stairs, was a wooden door that led to the garden.

Bright sunlight dazzled him, although he could see no evidence of an actual sun in the sky. The air was warm, and the leaves on the apple tree to his left rustled gently in the mild breeze.

He could smell the apples, noticed they were green and shiny. They were large, and several of them had already fallen onto the grass below. He hesitated for a moment, then leant down and picked one of them up.

To his right was a large garden with all kinds of plants and flowers growing. Not that he knew anything at all about gardening, but he definitely recognized the red roses. There were wooden sticks and frames planted, with leaves winding up them, and what looked like strawberries dangling off the vines.

Lucifer was out by some kind of herb patch, on her hands and knees, digging at the soil. She was wearing a dusty yellow blouse, tucked into a pair of blue jeans. A red and white bandanna covered her hair.

"Sam!" She seemed delighted to see him. She stood up and brushed the soil off her hands and knees. Then she frowned. "Wait…you still mad at me…?"

It took every bit of mental strength he had to go through with this. "Peace offering?" He held out the apple to her and forced himself to smile. Nearly threw up.

"Offering me my own fruit as a gift is kinda strange, but what the hey, I accept", she said happily, and took it from him. She looked into his face, scrutinized him. "How you feeling Sam?"

 _How do I answer that one?_ he thought. _Like my mind has cracked in two and I'm not sure who I am anymore?_

"I'm…OK I guess. Better than before, anyway. I kinda lost it there for a while."

"You sure did Sam. My fault though, pushed you too hard. I always forget how delicate you humans are."

Sam turned his head toward the warm sunshine. It felt feverish against his skin.  "How long does that go on for?" he asked, pointing toward the horizon.

"Forever. And also not at all." She shrugged. "So, do you like my garden?"

"Um, yeah I do actually." He was glad to be talking about something, _anything_ , that didn't involve horror. "I don't really know much about this sort of thing, plants and such. I mean, I know a bit about herb lore, but growing and cultivating all this…that's out of my skill set."

"Well I bet I can see to teaching you a thing or two." She pointed to a bush with softly spiked green stems. "This here is rosemary, one of my favourites. And there in the pots, that's mint. You can't plant that stuff just anywhere - it grows like wildfire". She plucked a bunch of leaves from it, crushed it between her fingers and held it up to Sam.

He took it, tamely brought it up to his nose. "Yep, that smells like mint alright." The strong fresh scent helped to take away the stubborn taste of blood in his mouth.

He looked back towards the horizon, steeling himself.

"What is it Sam?" She took the bandanna off her head, and stepped towards him, shaking her hair out. "You have something you want to ask me? Go on, go right ahead…" She nodded at him to begin.

"Okay…" He twisted the mint leaf stems around his fingers as he spoke. "Is it possible to see the real world from in here? Like on a TV screen or something?"

She smiled. "Oh Sammy, anything is possible in here. You know that."

"So that's a yes?"

She sighed, playfully. "Yes that's a yes, Sam. I can let you see everything that's going on… _up there_ … if you really want to."

He tried to smile pleasantly but the muscles on his face felt all wrong. "Not that I'm doubting you, or anything, but…how would I trust it’s for real? I mean, how do I know I won't just see what you want me to see?"

Lucifer walked past him, back towards the apple tree. She stopped to pick up a few more on her way inside. "Follow me Sam, I want to show you something."

She stepped in to the kitchen, put the apples and bandanna down onto the counter top and strode into the living room.  She rifled through a set of drawers until she found a small silver box and held it out to him. "Here. Go on, take it" she said. "Consider it a gift."

"What is it?" he asked, taking it from her. The tips of her fingernails still had earth from the garden under them.

"Press it and see."

He looked down and saw a small button at the centre of the box. He ran his thumb over it, as the debate in his head continued to tear him apart. Then he just thought _'fuck it'_ , and pressed the button.

A 55 inch flat screen TV appeared on the wall above the unlit fireplace. There was nothing showing on it but static.

"What do you want to see Sam? Or should I say _who_?" She rolled her eyes. " _Ugh_ …a _s if I have to ask_."

"Just show me, please" Sam said.

" _You_ have to do it." She answered. "That's how you know you can trust it Sam, _you_ are the one in control. Think about Dean and there he will appear, larger than life. But, be careful. There _is_ a catch."

"Of course there is…" Sam shook his head.

"Oh it's nothing to do with me." Lucifer said. "This is about _you_. Be very careful when you think about him, to keep your thoughts _neutral_. I mean it Sammy. It can show you the truth, but it can also show you what you want to see. If you picture him sitting in one of his nasty dive bars, drinking beer and eating a greasy burger, then that is exactly what you _will_ see. Whether he's there or not."

Sam looked at her. He didn't know whether to get his hopes up or be wary. He decided on wary.

" _Why_? Why would you let me have this?" He clutched the silver box tightly in his hand.

"I actually have a few reasons, but I'll keep them to myself if you don't mind. I'm sure you will work some of them out sooner or later."

She looked at him seriously. "I will promise you this though. I will never hide that box, or take it away from you. Not as a punishment, not in a fit of rage, not as a trick. It's yours, for the rest of the time you are in my home. _Our_ home."

A small part of Sam suddenly felt pathetically grateful to her. Then he realised what just happened, and quickly snuffed the unwanted emotion out. Lucifer did _nothing_ without an ulterior motive, and she would never have just gifted him a small piece of happiness out of the goodness of her non-existent heart.  Of course there was an angle. She wanted him to see what he was missing out on, and to suffer for it.

He didn't care – it was worth it to see his brother.  He turned to face the screen and concentrated, trying to picture Dean.

The first image that came to mind, in fact the only image that came to mind, was the one he couldn't actually get out of his head; a flashback of Dean, battered and bloody in the torture room. He didn't mean for it to happen, but the nightmare appeared on screen in full Technicolor, along with the crystal-clear sound of Deans tormented screams.

Sam staggered back, holding his head. "Shut it off, _shut it off_ " he pleaded.

Lucifer was at his side in a flash. "I can't make it stop…only _you_ can!" She pulled his hands away from his face, and looked him in the eyes. "Concentrate Sam. _Neutral_ remember? You have to be emotionless when you think about him."

"I don't think…I don't think I can do that..." Sam stammered, as Dean's screams continued.

"Well think about something else then! Fluffy bunny rabbits…the best lasagne you ever ate…your last girlfriend’s boobs, anything at all, if you want to shut the noise up…"

Sam closed his eyes and desperately tried to think about something innocuous, _anything_ , so long as it was harmless. He tried to steer away from people and onto inanimate objects. An image of the Impala came to mind. He slowed down his breathing and tried to picture it from every angle, remembering it in as much detail as possible.

As he concentrated, the sounds of Dean screaming faded and he opened his eyes. The screen showed a dust sheet draped over an Impala-like shape in a garage somewhere. _Was this real?_

He looked around at Lucifer, heart rate still thumping too fast. "How do I shut it off?"

"Just picture a blank screen."

Sam focused and eventually the screen went black, then faded entirely. He realized he was still tightly gripping the controller in a sweaty fist. He pocketed the small box in his jeans and sat down heavily on the couch, wrung out and disappointed.

"You'll get better, in time. With practice." Lucifer sat down next to him, and kicked off her gardening boots. She sighed as she sat back, comfortably wrapping her legs under her like a cat.

There was silence for a while. Almost companionable.

It didn't last long.

 


	9. Whatever it takes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On my way home from work today, I listened to Glory Box by Portishead. That song sums up this story better than any summary I could ever write. Listen to it if you get a chance, its a great song.

"Some people eat to live. Others live to eat. Being an angel, I don't fall into either one of those categories, and now that you're down here neither do you. But - the best way to a man's heart, or so I'm told, is through his stomach." She leapt up off the couch. "BRB!"

Sam really didn't want to eat anything. Hadn't felt any hunger since being in the Cage, only nausea.  Then he remembered. _Do whatever it takes._

He followed her into the kitchen. "Do you um, do you want any help?"

Lucifer was halfway inside a cupboard, rooting through pots and pans. She looked round at him. "Yeah Sam, that would be great! Let's make an apple pie!"

She pulled out a big pie dish and handed to him to put on the countertop. He noticed her fingernails were now thankfully clean. His stomach was churning badly enough as it was, even without the thought of having to eat something made by muddy fingers.

"If you get peeling those apples, I'll roll out the pie crust. Oh and don't forget your apron!" She handed him a blue gingham apron with the word 'Sam' stitched across the top. Lucifer put on a matching red one, with 'Lucy' sewn across it.

 _Ok. So this is actually happening._ Sam's aching mind struggled to make sense of everything. _Minutes ago I was watching my brother being tortured - by me - on widescreen TV, and now I'm trapped in a 1950s sitcom making pie with the Devil._

Sam found himself side by side with Lucifer, chopping up apples, adding spices and sugar, and learning how to cut leaf shapes out of dough to stick on top.

As soon as the pie was in the oven, she made them each a coffee and leaned back against the counter, hands wrapped around her china cup. "See how nice this is Sam? Don't you love the smell of cinnamon filling a home?"

Sam nodded and sipped his coffee. It tasted just as good as the first time and it helped to mask the bad taste in his mouth.

"So, Sam. We find ourselves with a spare half hour whilst the pie is baking." She went up to the oven and set the timer on the clock for thirty minutes. "I'm going to give you that long to think things over before you tell me where you would like to spend the rest of forever."

The air around them suddenly became electric, and Sam's pulse began to race. He felt panicky - this was taking place _now?_

"Shall we go over the terms and conditions of our little arrangement before you give me your final answer? Probably should, I don't want you to say you weren't fully informed…"

Sam choked out an agreement. "…ok. Sure."

"Do you want to sit down for this? Yes, you probably do…" She dragged over two tall kitchen stools from under the staircase and placed them up against the counter. "Sit."

 _Do whatever it takes._ Sam sat. Lucifer did the same.

"OK, you ready for this? I know you are still a bit fragile at the moment?"

"It's ok, I'm ok." Sam lied.

"Do you think we should get changed first, wear something more appropriate? I feel a little bit informal doing this in jeans…"

" _Please_ …can't we just get this over with?" The tension was killing him.

"Alright, alright." She huffed. "At least let's take our aprons off. I cannot and will not conduct a formal agreement in gingham."

Sam took his off gladly, wiped the sweat of his palms on it. Kept it bunched tightly in his hands as Lucifer began to speak.

"Sam Winchester. You will agree to woo me, lavish me with romance, foot rubs and chocolate. Be a gentleman around the house and offer to do the chores. Come up behind me when I'm cooking and wrap your arms around my waist. I want you to make me feel, and I'm quoting here, ' _like I'm the only girl in the world_ '." She paused for a second, thoughtfully.

"I appreciate there might be limits - I'm not expecting perfection here. After all, you are only human. And male at that. But, in return for a job well done, I hereby vow to not maim, mutilate or otherwise shred your soul too badly. Plus, you get to keep the remote control to the TV."

"De…define ' _too badly_ …" Sam stuttered, feeling as if his brain had been punched in the stomach. Repeatedly.

"Not beyond the point where it can't ever be entirely repaired."

She said it so matter of factly. So _coldly_. His face went as white as a sheet.

"Look Sam, I'm being honest here. I don't want to hurt you that badly, I actually don't. But accidents do happen and I won't always be able to control my temper. I am the Devil, for Christ's sake."

She gently lifted his chin up with a finger. "Come on Sam, a little bit of domestic abuse is the least of your problems. And I'll always get you nice gifts afterwards to say sorry. I _promise_."

Sickened, Sam went to stand up, to get away from her, but she shoved him back down. "I'm NOT finished yet." Lucifer glared hard at him as she sat back down on her stool. "You haven't heard your alternative offer." She leant forward until their faces were almost touching.

"Should you choose what's behind door number two instead? Let me put it this way. The fun you had with Dean the other day? Well that's just Monday. Tuesday is Bobby Singer. Wednesday is Jess. Thursday is your lovely momma. And so on, ad infinitum etc. And on special occasions, you can even have a turn in the hot seat." She leant back again. "You get where I'm going with this?"

Yeah, Sam got it. _Loud and clear_. He could choose between a fucked-up option, and an even _more_ fucked-up option. His chest hurt, and he was sure that if it were possible to have a heart attack down here, he would be having one right now.

His _'do whatever it takes'_ mantra sounded so hollow _._

"Plus, you have to call me Lucy, not Lucifer. That's non-negotiable." She shrugged. "But I will also answer to honey. Or darling. Terms of endearment are always good. But not babe. That's just nasty. Oh - and _remember_ …" she waggled a finger at him "…no hanky-panky either."

Sam's eyes swept to the oven clock. Somehow there were only two minutes remaining.

"Time flies in here Sammy." She smiled, wickedly.

"Two minutes left for you to decide. Do I get out the soft cushions, or my favourite red hot poker?"

 


	10. Treat her like a lady

The timer pinged.

"Sam Winchester. Do you formally accept my offer of being the best broken-in roomie a girl could ever have?

Sam stood up, and this time she let him. His tall frame towered above her. "Of course I fucking accept."  Even though he was scared, and most of his mind had turned into jello, he was determined to gather every last shred of dignity he had, to make a final stand.

"But let's get one thing straight. You say that I should just accept being your chew toy? Let me tell you something. I will NEVER accept it. Yeah, I'll treat you like a princess. A queen in fact. I'll do every damn thing you want me to do. But I won't just lay there and take your abuse – I will ALWAYS fight back."

She tried hard to look mightily impressed. She even clapped.

"And one last thing _Lucy_. I will never forgive, and never _ever_ forget what you put me through when you forced me to torture Dean."

She smiled. "Oh Sammy…I don't ever want you to!" She jumped off the chair gleefully. "Let's celebrate in style…honey go get the champagne from the fridge whilst I take the pie out the oven".


	11. Emotions and entrails...

At first, he watched Dean every day.

It took a long time for Sam to wake up to the fact it was making his time in the Cage worse.

All he had ever wanted was for Dean to be happy. And now it looked like he had finally given up hunting and settled down. He watched his brother go off to work each morning, and come home to Lisa and Ben every evening. Watched him drink beer and teach Ben how to make paper airplanes.

He also watched Dean wake up with nightmares night after night.

Lucy would sit and watch the TV with him, raising the occasional eyebrow but not saying anything. She didn't need to. 

Every so often he would check in on some of his other old hunter friends, but he also found that tougher than he would have imagined. He was absolutely certain that one day he would go searching for one of them only to find an image of a gravestone instead.

So he switched to watching ordinary people instead. People he didn't know. He watched their happy human lives with a growing jealousy, until he became too bitter and resentful to watch any more.

Not that he knew it, but his state of mind began to influence their environment. Not anywhere near the same scale as Lucifer, Sam was only human after all. But his emotions were so strong that they couldn't help but manifest in an ecosystem built entirely out of insane psychic energy.

At seeing other people laugh, dance and make love, grey clouds that reflected his depression slowly began to appear in the sky.  Lucy noticed and, whenever he got too sullen, she got out the cocoa and insisted they have an early night. Which actually didn't help Sam at all, as the one thing he never, ever, got used to was having to lie in bed and fall asleep next to the Devil.

Lucy could, of course, have conjured up twin beds for them, but she obviously didn't want to. She liked to darken the sky until all he could see was a faint red glow in her eyes, and then spoon until he fell asleep. Thankfully, she insisted they both wore the thickest flannel pyjamas that Sam had ever seen. 

The nightmares though.  God, the nightmares.

Mornings were just as bad - Sam would often awaken to find her propped up on one elbow, stroking his hair, watching him as he slept. It creeped him out beyond belief.

As the years rolled by, there were some good days. Sam learnt a bit about gardening, could bake a mean devil's food cake, and even figured out how to carve a tomato into the shape of a swan.

Movie nights were ok too. Together they ate popcorn, drank beer and watched alternate versions of films that hadn't even been made – Die Hard with Jennifer Lawrence in the lead was probably the best one. Sam laughed right along with Lucy at the thought of Bruce Willis playing Katniss.

The cuddles and foot rubs turned out not to be the worst thing, either. He could put up with the goose bumps he got every time he touched her skin - at least it meant she was happy with him when he was pampering her.

But then there were not-so-good days. Oh, there were _plenty_ of those.

Awful, mind bending days when Lucy's hideous mood swings kept Sam in constant fear.

He lost count of how much time he spent hiding under the bed like a kid, keeping out of her way as the sky outside turned pitch black, lightening flashing as she raged below, ripping up furniture, smashing all the crockery and alternately turning the gravity and/or oxygen off and on.

They both tried to keep their promises as best they could, and she did mostly allow him to hide whilst she was having her tantrums so that he wouldn't end up broken beyond repair.

But there were occasions when she took her frustration out on him as viciously as possible. And he would force himself to fight back to make sure he kept to his word.

He always ended up the loser, of course, and the results were gruesome. His entrails often made an appearance, along with various other parts of the body that are normally stashed on the inside. But once her temper was over she would heal him and then leave for a couple of days to let him have the house to himself. That was the gift she had promised him, and those were the only hours he spent in the Cage being able to truly breathe properly.

And finally, there were the _terrible_ days.

But thankfully Death came on one of those days. Death came on a _really_ terrible day.

 


	12. Merry Christmas Sammy

It was Christmas Day.

Lucy normally loved Christmas but this year she was bored.

Sam had spent the best part of Christmas Eve putting up a tree and decorating the cottage. He had even spent a couple of hours hand-making chocolate truffles with little cherries inside. He thought she would love them, but instead she threw them all over the kitchen. Even ground one of them into the cherub wallpaper and another into the living room carpet.

She hated her gifts, didn't want to garden, didn't want a back massage, didn't want to eat.

Sam was really worried. He had seen her happy, angry, mischievous and downright mean. But ill-humored boredom was something new. Something wasn't right here...

"How about we put the TV on, watch a Christmas movie?" He suggested.

A light drizzle of rain pattered against the windows. _That's not a good sign_ , he thought anxiously.

"I have another present for you honey, a special one that I was saving until this evening…I could go get it now if you like?" He went to leave the living room.

" _STAY WHERE YOU ARE_!" she screamed at him.

He turned back just in time to see a foot-long steel rod appear in her hand. She threw it at him like a javelin. It pierced him just below the right shoulder and, with a massive _thunk,_ it embedded deep into the wall, pinning him in place.

Sam went white with shock. _Oh this is bad, this is so bad…_ He stared at the thick piece of metal sticking out of him, and at the blood beginning to flow down his t-shirt and arm.

He went to touch the rod with his left hand, test how solidly it was embedded.

" _NOT ENOUGH_!" she shrieked, and suddenly the rod began to super-heat and glow red. Sam jerked his hand back in white-hot agony.

" _NOT ENOUGH_!" she shrieked _again_ and this time another rod appeared, went through his left thigh and into the wall.

Tears of pain rolled down Sam's face, as he pleaded with her, breathlessly, to _stop, please, stop_.

She turned her back on him, as warm blood dripped down from his thigh, pooling in his boot.

She sat down on the couch, facing away from him. "Put the TV on Sam", she said.

The remote control was in his jeans pocket. His _right_ jeans pocket. He would need to use his mangled arm to get it out. " _Lucy, please_ …" he begged.

"Put the TV on Sam" she said again.

The red-hot spear began to sizzle.

It took huge determination to somehow move his right hand into his jeans pocket and pull out the remote.

Everything whited out for a second, and the controller nearly slipped out of his blood-soaked fingers.

He just managed to press the button before dropping the box to the floor.

As static appeared on the screen, Lucy piped up "I want to watch Lord of the Rings – put that on for me."

Sam blanched. That movie was over three hours long. _Would she really leave him like this, trapped and in agony for that whole time?_ Yes, _of course_ she would.

Through sobs of distress, Sam concentrated hard to picture the start of the movie. He had seen it before, so it shouldn't be too hard to summon onto the screen. But the pain was so intense it took him much longer than usual.

His shoulder was burning up, _he_ was burning up, and rain began to lash hard against the window.

She watched the whole movie, including all the credits at the end. And then demanded to see the The Two Towers, followed by The Return of the King.

Sam faded in and out, but never quite lost consciousness during the eleven-and-a-half-hour trilogy. The rod stopped glowing after the first movie ended, but the unbearable throbbing in his arm and leg carried on.

As soon as the last credit rolled and static reappeared, she got up from the couch and went to face him. "You can turn it off now." Her cheeks were flushed, and her breathing was fast.

Standing in a huge pool of blood, and exhausted from shock and pain, Sam shuddered as he concentrated on turning the screen blank.

"Merry Christmas Sammy." She took away the rods with a wave of her hand and he dropped to the floor like a stone, gasping. She bent down and stroked his face. "What a bloody mess in here. It's all soaking into your lovely hair…" She tutted. "Let's get you all cleaned up…." She gently kissed his forehead, and for a second the agony blazed brighter than it had ever before.

Then relief, _oh god_ sweet relief. His head swam drunkenly at the sudden absence of pain and the temporary high made him fearless.

"You utter, fucking _bitch"_ he said.  He stood up, swaying slightly, and used his full height to tower above her. "You ugly, miserable, hateful _cunt_."  He placed a hand against her chest and shoved her hard against the wall. He was hysterical. " _Why can't you just die and leave me the fuck alone_?"

His face was close to hers. Way too close. Lucy leaned forward and kissed him hard on the mouth. Sam's skull felt like it was being electrocuted. He spasmed in horror and flailed backwards, tripping over his own feet and landing on the floor.

She jumped astride him, sat on his chest, pinning him down.

"You're _dammed right_ I'm a fucking bitch! And I will never, _ever_ , leave you Sam." Her eyes blazed red. "You are mine. _All mine_. Mind, body _and_ soul."

She leaned forward until their noses were almost touching. "This ugly, miserable, hateful cunt _OWNS_ you."

 


	13. Sympathy for the Devil

"I could have left you on that wall for _decades_ , strung your intestines up around you and decorated you a damn site better than your pathetic attempt at a Christmas Tree." It was true. Sam knew it.

She got up off his chest and reached a hand out to pull him up. "Instead I show you mercy. Kindness."

" _Kindness_?" Sam spluttered. He ignored her hand, and stood up under his own power. " _Kindness?_ You even _saying_ that word is a travesty. You know _nothing_ about love or kindness or mercy. You are …foul… _evil_." His eyes welled up in frustration. "All I know is I hate you. With every fibre of my being… _I hate you_."

Lucy reached up and wiped a tear away from his cheek. "Sam, it would be pretty weird if you didn't." She went over and picked the TV remote off the floor. Held it out to him, but he wouldn't take it.

"You _know_ I could fuck with you in ways you couldn't even begin to imagine. Beyond your wildest nightmares. And you would deserve _every single second of it_."

"We had a deal…you said you wouldn't…"

"Which you came close to breaking with your little tantrum!" She raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure calling someone a cunt is supposed to make them feel like a lady."

He sneered back, " _Darlin' you are NO lady_."

"No." She agreed. "I'm really not." Lucy raised a hand to his forehead and touched it briefly, with her index finger. “You want to know what I am?”

In that one second, he saw a glimpse of undiluted raw power.  The unimaginable frustration of fallen magisterial grace. And a deep, yawning sorrow at losing Heaven on a scale that went far beyond his own devastation at falling into the Cage.  Lucifer’s desolation was simultaneously heart-breaking and terrifying.  His human soul wasn't built to cope with the disturbing alien-ness of her mind, and another small piece of his fractured sanity tore away. He clutched at the wall to keep himself upright, barely even aware of it. It was as if he had stared into the sun too long and he couldn't see anything except after burn on his retinas.

Blindly, wretchedly, he faced her and said "I'm sorry" And he meant it.

"I'm so, so sorry for you."

She howled with anger at his pity.


	14. One angel to rule them all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok - I'm going to be brave and ask for comments! Don't know if I truly want them or not, but asking anyway...

Trying, and failing, to clear what felt like sharp pins and needles in his head, Sam led her to the couch. She didn't fight him as he made her sit down. He stroked her hair, brushed it and plaited it in the way that she liked and eventually she finally stopped making that nerve-shredding hollering noise.

He went into the kitchen and leant his hot forehead against a cupboard door. It felt like something had fundamentally changed inside him. Like part of Lucifer was inside his brain now. Sam knew he was no longer the same man as the one who first entered the cottage years ago.

No one on the outside would recognize him – he didn't even recognize himself anymore. Physically he might look the same, but eons of living with Lucifer and the constant anxiety that came with it had irrevocably altered his psyche.

He found a bottle of scotch and two glasses. Poured and downed his first one whilst he was still in the kitchen. It didn't change anything, nothing would. But the habit was comforting.

He walked back into the living room and made Lucy drink hers. Then poured them another and sat back against the couch and closed his eyes.  They sat in silence for a long while. Long enough to finish the bottle.

She turned to look at him. "Things are getting too stale in here. We need to leave, get away for a bit." Sam couldn't argue with that, but he bet they had vastly different ideas of where they wanted to go.

"I didn't just pick Lord of the Rings on a whim, Sam. We've got to go on a quest…"

 _Yep, no fucking beaches and pina-coladas for me_. "A quest to where…?” He asked, already knowing he was going to hate the answer.  

"Mordor, of course."

"Mordor…? As in Sauron…the ring…Mount Doom? Actual Mordor?"

She looked at him like he was stupid. " _Actual_ _Mordor_? You know its fiction, right?"

"Yeah, but you said…"

"Roomie, you've been here a very long time. Can you really not sense it _at all_?"

His baffled stare irritated her. "Jeez, I cannot believe you've been around me for this long and you still aren't getting it."

"What do you mean? Sensed _what_ …?"

She stood up and pointed out of the window. "THAT, you fucking idiot!"

Sam got up and followed her. The sky was permanently grey now, had been for a long time, but he didn't think that was what she meant.

"Ugh, you are still so damn human!... _Here_ …" She jabbed at his forehead, hard, and the pins and needles sensation increased in his brain. He reflexively shut his eyes in response, and when he opened them again, the world around him had taken on a different hue.  It was as if a veil had been pulled back from behind his eyes, and he could see clearly for the first time.

The walls. As he stared at them, he could see their… _impossible-ness_. Understood how the mirage held together. Every surface was honeycombed out of sheer angelic will.  He looked down at his hands and saw something similar. Saw how the illusion of his physical body was constructed, and deeper down, could see the silver shimmer that was his soul.

Sam was stunned… _exhilarated_.

Then he turned to look at Lucy. He knew there was a massive chance he could freak out at what he might see, go totally nuts and never be able to come back from it. But it wasn't something he could avoid; it was going to have to happen. So, like ripping off a band-aid, he looked straight at her.

He had met many angels in his life, even counted one as a close friend, but he had never truly _seen_ an angel before. And Lucifer was, by far, no ordinary angel.

It was like two, three…no, _hundreds_ of different beings were simultaneously overlapping. The Lucy form, the Nick form; all the other many guises Lucifer had taken on and entrenched inside were visible. Some were calm, some were laughing, and some, well they appeared downright insane. One of them, he could see, was spinning around and around, as if constantly looking for a way out.

And, underneath all those, burned a ferocious white-gold glow that moved and flickered in time with the pins and needles in his head. It hurt to look at, no question, but it was a _weird_ sensation. Like the vertiginous feeling when standing at the edge of a tall skyscraper – part apprehension, part euphoria and part suicidal.

" _Finally_." All of the many voices said, sarcastically. "It's only taken you most of a century. Now look out there and see…"

He tore his eyes away from her and stared out of the window. Saw why Lucifer mentioned Mordor. There, in the far, far distance, was something that looked very much like the Eye of Sauron.

He concentrated harder, reaching out with his new perception.

He couldn't describe it accurately in human terms; the Eye of Sauron was an illusion, just like everything else here, but it was also _actual_. And some sort of sentience enveloped it.

Sam pushed on, trying to figure it out what it was, when he suddenly pulled back, staggered.

 _Michael_...

 


	15. Through the looking glass

Vision fizzing and popping, he looked at Lucifer. "You never said Michael was so _close_ …has he been there all this time?"

"Close? Distance and time don't mean anything here, you know that."

"Why hasn't he ever come here?"

Lucifer's form crackled and morphed as she walked away from the window. "We've got some kind of… _how can I put it_?...It's like an unspoken truce. Temporary of course. When we finally meet the fight between us will be so fierce, and burn for so long, that it probably won't _ever_ stop."

"Hang on a minute…" Sam raised a hand, "Are you saying you want us to go over there and break that truce?"

"Mmm, not entirely. Let's consider it a smash and grab. An appetizer before the main event. You need a playmate and I need something to do…so, let's go and steal what's left of your half-brother."

Sam was knocked for six. He barely remembered much about his former life, having been down here for much, much longer than he ever was up there. If he really tried, he could just about recall Dean and some tiny snippets of their dad. But Adam was someone he thought about a lot - they were both trapped in the same place after all. Every time Lucifer hurt Sam, he wondered if Adam was going through the same thing with Michael.

"We are going to rescue Adam…?"

"Oh Sam, I think 'rescue' is the wrong word, don't you? _Kidnap_ is probably closer – he wouldn't enjoy being here with me any more than you do. In fact, he would almost certainly prefer to stay with Michael. Better the archangel you know, and all that." She laughed, all of her forms laughed, it sounded like a thousand cats dying.

"I mean, if you had to decide, right now…who would you choose? Me or Michael?"

" _You_." Sam answered straight away. Half surprised himself. But he had surprised Lucifer more. Most of her faces looked shocked.

"Wow Sammy. Either I haven't fucked with you nearly enough, or I've totally and utterly fucked you up. Which is it…?"

Sam laughed. He actually laughed. "Lucy – we bypassed sanity a long time ago. This morning you had me pinned to a wall in agony and I don't know whether to be grateful or not that it was only for 11 hours. So yeah, I would go with ‘utterly fucked up’."

Those cats started screeching again. "Yeah, well this morning you said you hated me and then called me a cunt, so let's call it even, eh?"

Things were getting too weird for him.

"I've got another question for you Sam. Do you want to keep your fancy new insight, or should I remove it?"

Sam looked at her sharply. "No way! Why would I want to lose being able to seeing everything clearly for the first time?"

"Precisely _because_ of that maybe? Your role here was a lot simpler when you first arrived. Tell me…what are you now Sam?"

He ignored the question, shook his head. "No, I'm got giving it up." He couldn't face going back to living in one dimension again, blind and ignorant.

"There is another reason you should think again…"

"Isn't there always?" He inhaled. "Go on then..."

"When you first came down here we were two separate entities. You somehow managed to shrug me off and retain Sam Winchester. But it's different now. I'm back inside you and the longer I stay there, the faster I'm going to burn out your humanity. Do you really want that?" She looked at him curiously.

"Honestly? Topside I would have fought to the death to stop that from happening. Down here though? I have no clue who or what I am anymore, and it's not like I'm ever leaving is it? And if we're going to face Michael, humanity is probably the very _last_ thing I need."

Several of Lucifer's faces looked pleased as he said this. "So you want me to stay inside you? You are actually making that choice?"

He looked down at the silver shimmer that was _him_. He could see strands of her gold essence webbed inside, could feel them vibrating against his soul like a dentist's drill. And as he stared harder, he saw some of the silver was tarnished. Actually blackened in places.

"Did you do this to me?" He asked.

"Some of it" Lucifer nodded. "The rest was already there. What do you think the effect of drinking demons blood has on a person's soul Sam?"

The particles that made up his face tingled.

"Actually, it's amazing how shiny you are, considering how long you've been here. But it's only going to get worse. If you say yes to me, your soul will become more and tainted and all of what makes you _YOU_ will corrode away."

"And that's inevitable, is it?"

"Pretty much." She shrugged.

"That's not an answer."

"It's the best I can give you Sam. Unless…"

" _Unless what_ …?" A fragment of him still didn't want to give in.

" _Well_ …seeing as we're going all 'Lord of the Rings', how about I finally make an honest man out of you and put a ring on your finger? And here's the kicker…whenever you're wearing it I can access you, and you can access _me_. But when you take it off it's just you all alone in there."

Layer upon layer, every face looked pleased with itself.

"You would do that? _Why_?" Sam asked. If Lucifer made a deal, could he trust it? Possibly, but only to a point. She had kept her word so far, but he always found later she had an ulterior motive for every deal she made. _Make a deal with the devil, you accept the price_.

"Cards on the table? I'd rather you stayed Sam Winchester, it's more enjoyable for me that way. But if you prefer to end up dark side I won't stop you."

Sam believed her. God help him, but he did. "How do we do this?"

"It's already done."

He looked down at his hands; saw a gold band on his wedding finger.

 


	16. A strange fellowship

Seeing a ring on his wedding finger was weird. He knew this wasn't an actual marriage - it was a total travesty - but was still surprised at the wistful emotions it brought up. Sam had always harbored a faint dream of being married someday, with a handful kids. School runs, soccer games, thanksgiving dinners… All the things that he never had and never would.

Lucifer brought him out of his pensive reflection. "Go on. Try it. Take it off."

 _Did he want to?_ Had to. The ring seemed more solidly constructed than the world around him. He had to look harder to see its elements, to recognize the strands of Lucifer's gold that enmeshed it. 

Sam took a deep breath, and pulled the gold band off.  Immediately the world changed around him. Couch, walls, wallpaper, tiny animal figurines…they were all solid, dense and flat. Like heavy gravity had been injected into the room. His perception was simpler, as Lucifer had said it would be, but colorless.

He also felt something deeply missing at his core. That insane, intoxicating and lethal bond he shared with Lucifer had severed and he felt its absence like drug withdrawal.

Paradoxically, when looked up at her it was a huge relief mentally to see just _one_ façade. Yes, the world was no longer vibrant, but it was definitely easier on his mind to look at Lucy this way. Being without the ring was a double-edged sword, for sure.

His thoughts turned to Adam, but she didn’t notice.  She danced happily around the room, finally eating the cherry chocolates he had made her.  "Is it still Christmas? Who knows. Who cares? Merry Christmas anyway, Sam." She laughed, and this time it sounded a lot more pleasant to his human ears.

"Ho fucking ho..." he replied.

"What'd you just call me?" She asked, eyes were twinkling with amusement.

"So are we doing this?" Sam asked. " _Really_ doing this? Walking right into lion's den?"

"You having second thoughts about rescuing your little brother?"

"No, not at _all_. Count me in for the road trip no question. But being honest, there's _no way_ we're getting away with it."

"Do you doubt me?"

He laughed. "Always. And…never. It's kinda odd …."

"Yeah, I get that."

"Lucy, what's gonna happen when Michael catches up to us? Cause he will…"

"Are you scared Sammy?"

He put the ring back on. But his old stubbornness made him place it on a different finger. His head swam with the warmth of the pins and needles. Felt _connected_ again.

"No".


	17. We’re off to see the wizard

Sam had never left the cottage. He had lived…no, he corrected himself…had been _confined_ there longer than he had ever stayed anywhere else, and whilst _home_ was definitely not the right word, it still meant something to him. He knew he would never see it again, and didn't know how he felt about that.

They walked out through the garden and around the side of the house. The air still smelled sweet, even though the sky had turned a crimson so dark it made the greenery look almost black. Lucy brushed her fingertips against a rose bush as she passed it. He saw its atoms collapse and disintegrate behind her.

Sam took a long swig of his beer. Knew it wasn't real beer, didn't care…old habits died hard and he wanted a six pack with them for the road.

He briefly thought about asking Lucifer why they weren't driving - he was sure she was capable of hooking them up with a very sweet ride – but he found himself enjoying the walk. He hadn't stretched his legs in a long time.

"Hey Lucy, seeing as I'm Sam does that mean I get to call you Frodo?"

She gave him many withering gazes. Only one of her faces found it funny. "Try it, and I will crush you like a bug. Anyway, you're the one carrying the ring, not me."

They headed toward the distant sickly yellow glow of Michael's expanse. It pulsed like an abscess. Even to Sam, something seemed very wrong there.  "Is that, you know, normal? Not that normal means anything here. But should it… _Michael_ look like that?"

Lucifer didn't answer. Kept on walking. But he saw the whirling dervish inside her, the one that was always trying to escape, spin faster. _Ohhh that can't be good_ , he thought.

The pins and needles sensation inside him amplified with every mile. Linked to her, he could feel Lucifer building up her power, flexing her archangel muscles. His senses fizzled and blistered, and a couple of times he thought about taking the ring off, just for a few moments, to give himself a break.

All six of Sam's beers had been drunk by the time the grassy fields under his feet became sand. Any breeze had long since died out, there was no fresh air here. They had entered a zone very different from Lucifer's. Where hers at least had the illusion of life, Michael's had the opposite. Worse, in fact. Other than the yellow flare in the distance, there was nothing here but empty vacuum. _Adam must have gone insane long ago_ , he thought.

A sudden mad urge to take the ring off, to see what this void of a place looked like to human eyes, took him. Without warning, he pulled the ring off his middle finger. He braced himself, expecting…well he didn't know what to expect.

The instant withdrawal from Lucifer threatened to double him over. Every nerve ending screamed at him to put the ring back on. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to resist for as long as he could. He was determined to still be able to see with his own eyes on his own terms.

At first glance, nothing was that different. The sky was still red, the sand felt the same under his boots. The yellow glare was still there, but faded, much harder to see.

Then he tried to take a breath. Found it almost impossible to suck in air. His legs felt sludgy and wooden. Without the connection to Lucifer, he could barely move and panic started to set in.

Lucy felt the shift in Sam immediately. Stopped walking and turned around. " _What are you doing_?" She seemed angry? It was hard to tell. His human eyes couldn't read her properly, and they had begun to prickle and swell in the lack of atmosphere. He could feel the blood in his veins beginning to boil.

"Sam – put the ring back on – _now_!" Her voice seemed far away, like sound had a long way to carry.

He absolutely did not have to be told twice. The moment the ring was on his finger, the need to breathe evaporated. He was back on the umbilical cord. He could see her clearly again and knew she was furious. " _What did you do that for_?" she shrieked, all the voices shrieked.

He answered her question with a question, heady with relief at being hooked up to her power again. "What would have happened to me if I hadn't put it back on?"

She rushed at him, shook him till his cells felt like they were moving on their own. "There's no life support here, you damn fool."

"Didn't answer me." His voice slurred. Every time he came back to her, the high was stronger. His addiction to demon blood was nothing compared to this. "Would I have died…?"

"If I said yes what would you do? Would you take the ring off again?"

"Maybe. I don't know." He shook his head, confused. The pull of this new, intense addiction weighed heavily against the possible escape of death.

"It would be worse than death Sam. You don't know it, but I've shielded you for a very long time. For my own selfish ends, I admit, but still – you haven't even come close to knowing the agony and torment of existing out here without my protection. Your suffering would be eternal and unendurable: it's just not possible to die here."  The male face that was the Lucifer he first met came to the forefront. "We can't escape from here. _Ever_."

"You managed it before."

"That was a onetime shot. You sealed us up in here good and proper Sam."

He looked at Lucifer, looked at the entity inside that spun and spun. "Then why are you still trying?"

"It's probably the one thing we have in common, you and I. We don't give up."

"Oh I gave up long ago." Sam said resentfully. " _You_ saw to that."

"You are so wrong Sammy. If that were true, your soul would be more damaged than my cold twisted heart. You still seem ok to me."

Sam looked down. The silver shimmer was still webbed, and areas of it remained discoloured. But the taint hadn't got much worse. He was surprised.

"Like I said…" She turned to walk away again.

He had to ask the question. "Did you know the ring would have this effect on me? That once I had it on I wouldn't want to take it off again…?"

"Sam you know everything has a price. But I kept my word, like I always do. You have free will to remove it anytime, it's not my fault if you don't want to."

"It was a lie by omission." Sam wasn't really mad at her. He was mad at himself. Again.

"Sam, there's a really simple cure for your naivety. Stop making fucking deals with me if you don't want to get shafted."

She looked up at the horizon. "Let's keep moving."

 


	18. His name was Sam Winchester

They walked and walked and walked and walked.  Days, years, on and on.

As Lucifer’s archangel drug begin to scald his blood, it took more and more focus to cling on to who he was.

_My name is Sam Winchester. I was born in 1983. Have a brother, Dean. I am a hunter._

Name, rank and number, Sam repeated it over and over as carried on walking to his personal Mount Doom.

_My name is Sam Winchester._

The sky was now an inverted dome of yellow. The color of radioactive pus. Even inside Lucifer's souped-up protective womb, it was getting harder and harder for Sam to push on through.  There was no question now, of ever taking the ring off.

Onwards and onwards they pressed.  Every step was the same as the one before: until suddenly it wasn’t.  The honeycomb cells that made up his fake body twisted and writhed as Michael's awareness, his penetration, scraped against his soul like a cheese grater. He looked at Lucifer in horror.

"Oops", she said. "Guess we don't get to sample the fish course after all. Straight onto the meat course it is Sammy."  Lucifer was excited: all of her forms were yearning to meet Michael head on.

It was all happening too fast for him. Decades, and more, of long, slow imprisonment, and now suddenly everything was spinning away from him faster than he could blink.

Sam shrank, like a salted slug. What the actual fuck was he doing here, involved in a fight between two archangel brothers? He had no place, no right being here.  He wanted to call Lucy back: to beg her to let them return to the cottage. She was lost to him though, she didn’t even turn around to say goodbye.

There was no warning, no preamble. In a rush of volcanic wind, the yellow pulse condensed into a swirling, sparkling funnel, and it wrapped around Lucifer's white-gold essence.

As the whirlwinds expanded, as the huge tornadoes writhed against each other, Sam's connection to Lucifer pulsed with a sickening, distressing pain. Not physical pain - this was spiritual pain, spiritual torment.

The destructive might of the war happening inside their universe was so utterly incomprehensible to a mortal, so devastating, that the entity that was Sam Winchester began to unravel.

_My name is…is._

 


	19. Death rode into town

Death was tired. Death was old. And Death was mildly annoyed.

He had come a long way to track down Sam Winchester's soul. And no one had made it easy for him.

The Cage in Hell transcended time and space. It was both a fragment, and an all-encompassing whole at the same time. It was abstract and opaque. Utterly indescribable.

And unless you knew precisely where to look, one couldn't just simply pluck a soul from Nowheresville like a cocktail sausage on a stick. So, Death had to comb the entire expanse, piece by piece.

It was irritating.

When Dean Winchester had asked him to rescue his brother's soul, Death likened the enterprise to a handy exercise in killing several birds with one stone. Even with the likely cost to Sam's sanity his reasons were sound, and worth the risk.

Lucifer had been impudent enough to bind him, to actually be so arrogant as to bind Death. So now he was going to take something away from Lucifer, and put that ridiculous archangel back in his place.

He ploughed on, knowing he would find the younger Winchester in the end. The mission wasn't beyond his capabilities, it was just time consuming and tedious to have to look under every single metaphorical rock. And there were a lot of them.

_There..._

A tremor…a crystalline fracture.

Death glided over to where the playground scrap was taking place. It didn't interest him in the slightest.

No, his dilemma was the sudden mission impossible.

Sam Winchester was bound to Lucifer on a molecular level. That was unexpected, and unfortunate. There was no way of extracting Sam without extracting Lucifer too.

He stood for a while, debating.

Held up a finger, and gave a gentle cough. "I wonder if you fellows would be good enough to call a hiatus…just for a moment…?"

Of course they ignored him. Stubborn boys. He coughed again, more insistently.

This time there was as flickering in the maelstrom, a cracking noise. The winds died down and Lucifer and Michael's grace coagulated to a more solid form. They both looked very pissed off.

"I know I'm interrupting, and it's quite rude of me I'm sure." Death smiled at them apologetically. "I'm only here to collect Sam Winchester's soul and I'll be on my way again." He pointed down at the quivering mess of semi-solidified atoms at his feet.

Lucifer flew over to Death. Forgot all about his brother. " _No_ " he hissed. " _It's mine_ …."

Michael stepped forward: lightening began to arc around him. Death raised an eyebrow at him. "Really?" He sighed like a disappointed parent.

"Lucifer, I am being reasonable here. Sam Winchester has nothing to do with your brotherly spat. Unlink him from your influence so I can take him away."

"He goes nowhere without me. _Nowhere_." Lucifer grinned a thousand grins. "You want him to leave then _take me with you_."

Already ill with undying rage, Michael screamed.

"No." Death said, simply.

"Then Sam stays here with me."

Death said sadly, "Look at him. I mean _really_ look at him."

Lucifer looked down at the shredded mess.

Death could see a conflict glimmer inside the angel. Wondered what had happened down here between them. Pressed the advantage.

"Do it now Lucifer. Release him whilst there's a scrap of him left to save."

"You've got it all wrong old man. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. We made a deal. He has to be the one to disconnect from _me_."

"Then why hasn't he?"

“Because I haven’t had the right motivation to persuade him to.  Up until now.”  Lucifer smiled. Long and slow. "Give us a moment would you Michael? I have a feeling that this negotiation won't take too long…"


	20. Time to let go

Sam was naked in the universe's worst ever sand storm. Every particle of his soul was flayed and shredded. Decimated. And yet he was still linked to Lucifer, still had that cursed awareness.

She came to him. Blonde hair flying in the wind. Touched his face. Whispered gently.

"Take off the ring Sammy."

"… _I can't_."

"You have to."

"… _Why_?"

"So you can leave."

"… _don't…understand…"_

"Death has come to claim your soul. But he can't do it whilst you are still holding on to me."

"… _Death?"_

"Let go Sam. Let me go."

"… _How?"_

"Focus."

"… _can't."_

"You _can_. Confession time Sam. I gave you the power to control your own destiny as soon as you arrived in the Cage. I just never told you about it 'cause it was too much fun watching you lurch from one self-inflicted hell to another."

"… _NO!"_

"It's true. Everything that's happened down here – you chose it. You really hate yourself Sam. Way more than I hate you."

"… _no…"_

"Take off the ring Sam."

"… _Adam?"_

"Not happening. Now do as you're damn well told, you stubborn fuck. I'm telling you to take it off. Go be with your brother."

"… _why…let…me…go?"_

"…we had a deal about your soul, remember? _Not beyond where it can't ever be repaired_. That deal just saved your life _._ "

Lucy faded. Nick replaced her. His smile was different than hers.

"Aaaand, cause I _know_ I will be seeing you again. Party aint over till it's over Sammy. Take off the fucking ring. _NOW!_ "


	21. Chapter 21: Epilogue 1 - Doctor Death

Death had his work cut out for him. Sam's soul had to be painstakingly put back together molecule by molecule. And, like a vase that's been shattered and glued back together, every single crack showed.

He gathered up the really broken bits, the pieces that he couldn't quite repair. Bunched them together. When he placed Sam's soul back inside his body, he built a wall around the ruined parts to hide them from Sam's memory. It was as brittle as charcoal, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances. He was Death, not a doctor. Still, he gave Dean a warning, like writing out a prescription.

"Don't let him scratch that itch."

 


	22. Epilogue 2

Behind the wall, the most heavily damaged part of Sam's mind was formed of two questions. Stuck in a loop, they repeated over and over, with no one around to hear them.

_Will she go back to our cottage on her own?_

… _Will she miss me?_

 

 

 

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my first ever fanfic, and I loved writing every single second of it.  
> Now its over I am indescribably sad.  
> Man, I hope you all enjoyed this, cause I'm definitely going to write another.
> 
> Edit: I have written others now! Please check them out!


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